


Perfect Complimentary Frequencies

by 1_jew_in_a_room



Series: Hair One Shots [1]
Category: Hair - MacDermot/Rado/Ragni
Genre: F/M, LSD Trip, M/M, Nonsexual Nudity, One-Shot, Polyamory, Sort of abstract, The three of them love each other very much, claude's perspective, nonsexual touching, sappy and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_jew_in_a_room/pseuds/1_jew_in_a_room
Summary: They’re three flowers all growing in the same little pot. Maybe they’re daisies. No, he thinks. He himself is a Daisy, but they’re different flowers. They’re each their own flowers but they’re all three growing together, their stems twisting and merging.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A cute little one-shot featuring Claude, Berger, and Sheila tripping together and loving each other. Because I hurt at the end of the musical every time and I love the three of them (although not as much as they love each other).
Relationships: George Berger/Claude Bukowski/Sheila Franklin
Series: Hair One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610740
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Perfect Complimentary Frequencies

Claude can’t imagine being happier than in the moments he’s with his tribe. No matter what they’re doing, he’s happy when they’re together. He’s a person when he’s with them. He’s not just a number or someone to carry on an imagined legacy. He’s everybody’s brother, friend, lover, father, and mother. They’re all his too. He feels like the root of a vast tree, stretching out and touching every beautiful soul and sensation around him. He loves all of the members in the beautiful family he’s found, but he has to admit that he has a special kind of love for two people in particular. They’re so different and yet so similar. Everything about them shines and he doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone whose fires are so bright.

The three of them are soul mates. He knows they are - and not only because he learned it in a trip. He can feel it every time they’re together. Their beings resonate on perfect complementary frequencies. Not the same frequency, they are definitely different, but in the best ways. He told them so once.

_“We’re different, y’know? We resonate on the perfect complimentary frequencies. I can feel you both vibrating through my bones. I can feel you in my soul!” Claude took a moment to sit up from where they were piled to gaze down at them in the waning sunlight. They looked angelic with the golden sun in their hair. “I love you both. You’re beautiful… You’re beautiful…” He continued to chant it quietly like a mantra as he let himself back down to tangle himself with them again, feeling their skin and their hair._

_“That was lovely, Claude. I dig it, baby. You’re so lovely.”_

They understand him so well. Sometimes they know him better than he knows himself, but it isn’t scary. He trusts them more than anyone or anything. They aren’t flawless, of course, nobody is. Sometimes they accidentally hurt each other or don’t communicate as well as they could, but overall they are three flames joined to one in glorious harmony. They’re three flowers all growing in the same little pot. Maybe they’re daisies. No, he thinks. He himself is a Daisy, but they’re different flowers. They’re each their own flowers but they’re all three growing together, their stems twisting and merging.

Beautiful, strong, deep Sheila is a Chrysanthemum. Full of breathtaking fractals and life-giving color with the strongest conviction he’s ever seen. So much purpose overflows from her, spilling out into everyone around her too. Her eyes sparkle with kindness and joy when she sees them. Her tears are like dew-drops falling from her soft petals, the beauty of the universe and what it could be reflected through her. He could look at her forever and be overwhelmed with happiness. When she laughs he can hear the stars twinkling.

And Berger. Sweet, spiky, crazy Berger. His oasis in the desert. He’s curly and long and bright. Never the same but never unfamiliar. He dances in the wind and never fails to reinvigorate Claude’s spirit when it falters. The free-wheeling being known as Berger is a wonderful Cactus Flower, blowing in the sandy desert wind. He breathes magic into the air around him and every interaction bears a gift. Painted sunsets leave him bathed in psychedelic light and it’s in those twilight hours that Berger is at his best. His spontaneous joyous noise and sudden ideas push Claude out of his comfort zone in the best way. Berger is freedom and freedom is Berger. 

And now they lay in their familiar pile, tangled together with Claude draped over their legs. They each took a tab about 30 minutes ago and Claude is starting to feel it, just a bit. The familiar buzz is creeping into the tips of his fingers and toes. Berger laughs loudly and whoops at nothing in particular as the sky above them starts to wave and shimmer in Claude’s eyes.

“Buckle up, kiddos! Here we go!” Sheila joins in his laughter and Claude can’t help but laugh along too. His body slowly grows more and more weightless as time goes on, although time passing gets less and less noticeable. He feels like he’s floating with them. It’s nice. Berger and Sheila are having a conversation, but Claude is more than happy to just listen. They kiss and touch each other and laugh together. Claude loves to watch them - they’re so beautiful together and there’s something so intimate and special about just observing. Sometimes that’s all he wants to do. A sudden warmth fills his chest. He’s so grateful that they understand that about him. He’s so grateful that they just let him listen, let him be invisible when he needs to be. Nobody else that he knows can just let him be when he needs it. 

“Oh, Claude, baby - you okay?” Sheila’s voice is like velvet. He’s confused for a second before he feels her delicate fingers wiping away tears he didn’t know were rolling softly down his cheeks. Another laugh bubbles from deep in his chest and Berger laughs too, pulling him up a little so that they’re all lying together face-to-face.

“He’s fine. He’s just happy. Having a good come-up, Claudio?” The young aquarius nods and runs his fingers through the mess of their hair. His smooth, silky hair combines with Sheila’s thick, soft hair and the wavy almost wiry hair in the mix is Berger’s. Now that he can feel his tears running down his cheeks he likes the feeling. He doesn’t hold them back. Psychedelics have always affected him more than Berger. At first it had made him self-conscious but he quickly stopped caring. Now he can’t believe anyone had ever used ‘sensitive’ as an insult. He loves being sensitive. He can feel the sun and the moon and the stars and the souls around him. It’s like a superpower.

“I just love you both so much.” Sheila smiles and brushes a lock of hair out of his face and Berger touches his nose.

“We love you too, Claude!” She presses her lips to his forehead. Berger presses his face against Claude’s own and his stubble tickles him a little. He loses himself in the feeling a bit and finds himself wanting to touch them more. He loves the different feelings of their skin against his. He presses his hand against Berger’s bare chest and gets a mirthful coo in response. He isn’t sure how it evolves or how long it takes, but eventually he notices his shirt is off because the cool air is flowing over him like a river. All their shirts are off, and he can feel their warmth around him and the smooth slide of their skin.

Slowly and without real conscious thought, they start to strip off their clothes. The world is starting to spark and shatter into beautiful fractals and patterns in front of Claude’s eyes. He finds himself flipping back and forth between losing himself in the visuals he’s seeing and the feeling of his lovers against him. He’s so consumed by the love he’s feeling and the closeness they have that it’s hard to remember he has one single body or self. He’s floating amongst the stars and they glitter around him like christmas lights. He reaches out to touch them but can’t seem to reach them somehow. The cool river of air flowing over his naked body gives him chills but he doesn’t feel cold. Actually, he feels warm.

Out of nowhere he can taste Berger’s mouth on his. It’s certainly not an unwelcome surprise, but he makes a little sound nonetheless. Berger laughs slightly against his mouth and continues to kiss him while Sheila runs the tips of her fingers over their backs and through their hair. He tastes like smoke and some sort of tea but mostly he just tastes like Berger. Like home. Claude had never understood how people thought of home as a place - home has always been people to him. Every since they met, home has been Berger. His lips are chapped and almost rough against Claude’s own but it’s nice. The pressure feels wonderful and when he closes his eyes the imprint of Berger’s face lingers in his mind’s eye, thousands of tiny dots making up his features. With every reconnection of their lips his face morphs and changes color. It’s mesmerizing. He could’ve been kissing Berger for hours and he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Eventually his eyes drift open and he’s not sure if they’re kissing anymore. All he can focus on is the pattern and color of Berger’s eyes. The rest of the universe falls away, or actually it gets sucked into his friend’s deep hazel iris. Claude is fairly certain he got sucked inside it as well. In his mind he’s there for hours, staring at the green and brown painting the air around him. And then just as suddenly as the world flew inside of that hazel realm it’s forced back out as Berger pulls away. Claude is confused at the sudden lack of pressure and warmth against his lips and for a moment he forgets where he is. When his eyes come back to him he sees that Berger has let himself fall back onto their blanket on the grass. When had they sat up? Were they ever laying down in the first place? He doesn’t remember. His fingers graze against his lips.

“I was in your eye.” Sheila hums in response and hugs him tightly.

“I was in space,” Berger manages to gasp out. He’s focused intently on something in the air above him but Claude can’t see what it is. Before he can focus on what Berger is seeing he gets distracted by the feeling of Sheila’s hands slowly caressing every part of his body. Little tingly sparks of electricity follow everywhere her fingers touch until his body is a map of static lightning. Claude presses gentle kisses all over her face and neck and head, feeling suddenly and urgently that he needs to touch her. Not necessarily her skin, but her soul. He can feel the part of her that he can’t see reaching out to him and calling to him for embrace. He moves to hold her head against his chest and feels his heartbeat echoing through her. A deep, contented sigh leaves one of them but Claude can’t tell who. Maybe they all let out a sigh out together. Soon Berger sits up and holds them too, and now they’re as Claude can always feel they are.

The three of them are holding each other and just being together. They exist on the same plane, just the three of them there. Claude swears he sees broad noon-time sunlight blossom between them and shine through them. They are pure light together, nurturing the earth with their warmth. Millions of neon stars came together just to make the three of them. He feels himself start to cry again at the sheer size of that realization. Sheila starts to cry with him and then Berger’s tears fall as well. They’re pressed so closely together that they all have each other’s tears rolling down their cheeks. They all share tears and somehow he knows that all this water is coming from the same deep well. Their tears originate from the same sacred pool and only barely separate at the last minute. It feels right that they’re coming back together now.

“I love you,” Nobody knows who says it or who they say it to. Claude assumes they all say it at once to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you read/have read my other fics I'm sorry I'm so sporadic and crazy with my writing schedule. I can only write when the inspiration strikes and if it doesn't then I'm out. Hopefully I'll get around to working on my multichapter fic at some point! Who knows!
> 
> (Hair is one of the best musicals in the the history of musical theater and nobody can convince me otherwise)
> 
> Any comments are much appreciated!


End file.
